


The Fall

by Wolfs_Cry



Series: Guard and Glaive [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfs_Cry/pseuds/Wolfs_Cry
Summary: It was supposed to be a standard escort mission for Crowe. But she’s shot. Left for dead. Betrayed by those she called family, she’s not sure who to trust anymore.Then Insomnia falls.She’s too far from the Citadel to do anything. And the thing is, she doesn’t really want to go back.But that’s the least of her worries: she’s lost her magic.





	1. Chapter 1

She falls.

  
It’s fast and hard.

  
But she’s alive.

  
Captain’s orders. Why—what’s—but that’s. . .

  
Why?

  
Now, she only knows one thing.

  
She shouldn’t move.

  
So she doesn’t move until she hears the van drives off. Doesn’t move until the sound of its rumbling engine is completely gone. Only then, she turns her head aside to look.

  
The van’s not around anymore. She realises then her heart is pounding in her chest. She spits dirt out of her mouth and moves to get up. She’d fallen facedown. She brings her hands up, dragging them across gravel, and pushes herself off—

  
She gasps, hand flying to her side. She shuts her eyes tight, gulping for air. Only now she feels it.

  
Her side’s burning.

  
She pauses. She can feel something wet coating the hand at her side. Slowly, she brings up her hand to look. She can guess what she’d see; still, her mind reels when she does.

  
Red.

  
So much red.

  
And she knows. She’s bleeding out.

  
She wipes her soiled hands on her jeans, before clamping her shaky hand back onto her side. Even breathing’s hard. She can’t be caught by hostile forces—or Glaive—in this state. She scrambles to get up and the ground crunches beneath her.

  
For hearth and for home, huh. One thing’s for sure.

  
She won’t be going home again.

  
She groans. Getting shot sure is something. She bites her lip and struggles into a sitting position. “Ugh.” She heaves breaths. Getting up should’ve been easier. Only the smell of soil and blood fills her senses.

  
Then, she remembers she should be worrying about her attacker returning. Her heartbeat starts picking up again.

  
Help.

  
She should get help. Quickly.

  
But first, she’d to get to safety—at least, to somewhere with some sort of cover in this place. Out in the middle of nowhere. She starts to get up. No matter how she tries to avoid stretching her injury, she does.

  
Finally, she gets to her feet. She leans heavily on her bike, teeth gritted. She lets out another groan. Presses her hand harder against her side. She’s already sweating profusely.

  
She glances at the derelict gas station behind her. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to make it there quick enough to make a call. If her attacker hasn’t returned by now, she doesn’t think he would anymore.

  
She knows she’s being careless, but she just stays where she is. She tries pulling out her phone. It’s hard with just a hand. Her head’s spinning now. She shakes her head once.

  
She leans aside and uses both hands to get her phone out of her pocket. She fumbles with it for a moment. She clenches her jaw. She doesn’t have time for this.

  
She chooses to control her breathing first. Chooses to focus on getting her heartbeat back to normal—it’s racing. It’d be of no use if she bled out before help arrived.

  
Okay. Okay. She should stay calm.

  
She will.

  
Her phone slips from her slicked hand. She catches it—just barely—heart up in her throat. She struggles in making the call. There’s blood smeared all across the screen. She uses the hem of her shirt to wipe it.

  
She quickly types a number out. Stares at it. She hopes her memory hasn’t failed her. Not now. She hopes she’s gotten it right. Calling the guys weren’t even an option. Not after. . .

  
No. This’d have to do.

  
Her finger hovers above the call button. He’s the only one she can think of calling right now. Apart from the Glaive, he’s the only one she knows.

  
The only one she can trust.

  
But. . . it’s been a while. She hopes. . . she hopes he picks up. She purses her lips and quickly presses call. She brings her phone up to her ear.

  
_Beep beep. . . beep beep. . ._

  
Pick up. Please pick up.

  
_Beep beep. . . beep beep. . ._

  
“C’mon c’mon c’mon.” She takes in a shaky breath.

  
_Beep beep. . . beep beep. . ._

  
He’s not going to pick up. He’s not going to.

  
Her vision starts to become blurry. She blinks rapidly. She brings a hand up to wipe her face. It’s wet. She doesn’t even have to look at it to know.

  
She’s crying.

  
A sob escapes her.

  
_“Hello?”_

  
She starts.

  
He picked up.

  
Wait.

  
She has to make sure it’s really him. Make sure she’s gotten his number right from the top of her head. Her safety’s already compromised.

  
She says nothing.

  
_“Anyone there?”_ A pause. “ _Hello? Who’s this?”_

  
It is him.

  
She grips her phone tighter, holding it with both hands now.

  
“It’s Crowe,” she says, “it’s Crowe. I need help.”


	2. Chapter 2

She steps back, deeper into the shadows. It’s night now. She shivers when there’s a breeze and wraps her arms around herself. She pulls away the hair stuck to her face and neck. She feels sticky.

  
A spray of dust and debris showers down onto her when she bumps against the wall behind her. She really hopes no one would come find her here behind this crumbling wall—except him.

  
She knows she isn’t exactly hiding properly right now. She’d have to make it to her bike quickly if she needed to.

  
She’s done a perimeter check—at least, checked as far as she can see without actually going over to look—and it seems like there isn’t anyone else around. They sure dropped her off somewhere deserted. She hopes there aren’t other Glaive still around.

  
She leans back against the wall. She’s not sure if she’d screamed just now when she got shot. Maybe she did. Maybe not.

  
She’s not sure.

  
She’s not sure of everything that’s happened just now either. Maybe, she’d just imagined it. She looks down and turns her hand over a little. No. Blood’s still there. She pats her pocket. Bullet’s still there too.

  
She’s already had misgivings about this mission. Not that she didn’t trust her own skills. But going into Tenebrae alone with no backup? With the mission she was given?

  
So Captain had said they’d be tracking her and the princess with the watch and pin. But really. Those weren’t enough of a reassurance. Nothing feels safe. Not during this period of time. Until the treaty is signed, they are still in the middle of a war.

  
She drops her head back against the wall and more dust falls. She half-heartedly brushes it off. She’s tired, but. . . she doesn’t think she can stand back up if she sat down. She sighs. She still has to be on guard—or as alert as she could be right now—until help arrived.

  
She’d only remembered she could use a curative spell after the call. Or a potion. She’d a potion. But it was instinct that’d saved her life. She’d realised she’d been channelling healing magic the moment she’d been trying to stem the blood flowing from her wound.

  
By then, she’d still already lost a lot of blood though; the bullet had tore through her. And in her state, she’d known her magic wouldn’t have been at its best. In the end, she’d also used the potion. But she knows.

  
She’s incapacitated.

  
She tries listening to her surroundings, ready to pull on her magic at any moment. She doesn’t summon it just yet. It’d already taken too much out of her, after all that. It’s dark. She hopes he comes quickly.

  
She can do nothing but wait.

* * *

  
She blinks.

  
She must’ve nodded off. It’s not as dark now—

  
She freezes.

  
Listens.

  
“Crowe?”

  
She doesn’t answer.

  
“Crowe!”

  
She’s not sure. She’s not sure if it’s him. But. . . she must find out.

  
She brings up a hand. A flame flickers to life.

  
She steps out into the open.

* * *

  
“Crowe?”

  
She whips around to the voice, both hands instantly ablaze. She frowns, watching as the person inches closer, away from the gas station. There are—one, two—three other figures further behind him. They don’t move closer.

  
“Hey,” he says, “it’s me.”

  
The sky’s bright enough now for her to make out his face. She glances around to ensure there aren’t Glaive nearby. He stops just in front of her. He looks somewhat different from when she’s last seen him but. . .

  
It’s him.

  
It’s really him.

  
She tries to call him, but only air escapes her. She tries again. “Gladio?”

  
He nods. “Yeah. It’s me.”

  
She extinguishes the flames in her hands. He’s immediately at her side. Suddenly, she feels tired again. When he pulls her close, she leans heavily against him, his warmth.

  
He ducks down to peer at her face. “Your face. There’s blood.” His voice is soft. He lightly brushes her hair and jacket.

  
She just shakes her head, looking down. Her visions starts blurring again.

  
Silence.

  
Then, a hand wipes at her tears.

  
She blinks rapidly, exhaling shakily. “I’m so. . .tired.”

  
“Okay. You’ll get to rest soon.” He squeezes her shoulder. He gently turns her towards him. “But first. Your wound?”

  
Her hand immediately goes to her side.

  
His hand hovers over hers. “Let me see?”

  
Her eyes dart up to his. She tries to keep her voice steady. “Potion.”

  
“You need a potion?” The hand on her arm tightens.

  
She shakes her head, biting her lips.

  
His grip on her loosens a little. “You used a potion?”

  
She nods.

  
“Okay. Good. We’ll get you somewhere safe.” He places a hand on her nape.

  
She grabs his arms when she wavers suddenly.

  
He instantly lifts her off the ground, holding her close. He only raises his voice then. “Alright. Let’s go, Iggy.”


	3. Chapter 3

Rumbling.

  
An engine’s rumbling.

  
She starts, eyes flying open.

  
An arm is instantly around her shoulders. “Easy.”

  
She’s leaning against. . .something warm. Someone. She’d felt the rumble in the speaker’s chest. She hesitates, before looking up slowly.

  
Gladio’s looking down at her.

  
Pulse returning to normal, she relaxes. She lifts her head off him and rights her body. Still, she makes sure she’s closer to Gladio than the other passenger beside her.

  
Gladio lightly squeezes her shoulder. “You okay?”

  
She immediately nods.

  
His brows furrow slightly.

  
“It’d be best if you gave the Marshal a call now, Gladio.”

  
Her head jerks up at the unfamiliar voice. It’s the driver who spoke.

  
“Right. Sure.” Gladio gives her shoulder another squeeze before taking his arm away. He slips a hand into his pocket.

  
She realises then, next to the driver’s a blond—who’s watching her over the back of his seat. He immediately turns back front when their gazes meet. From the rearview mirror, she sees his eyes go to her again.

  
There’s also someone else beside her. She turns to see. . .

  
The prince.

  
Looking back at her.

  
She blinks. She closes her mouth. Opens it. She quickly dips her head. “Your Highness.”

  
He grimaces. “Just Noctis, remember?”

  
She doesn’t answer. She hadn’t called him that before all along. She isn’t going to start now.

  
“Crowe.”

  
She whips back around to Gladio.

  
He puts a steady hand on her. “So, Iggy and I think,” he says quietly, “it’s best you told the Marshal everything. Yourself.” There’s a phone in his hand now.

  
She thinks about it for a while.

  
Licking her lips, she nods. “Okay.”

  
He instantly brings his phone up to his ear.

  
She hasn’t really talked to the Marshal before. Well, she hasn’t. She doesn’t think he’s involved with the Glaive. She hopes he’ll be—

  
“Crowe?”

  
She turns.

  
Gladio’s holding out his phone.

  
She takes it. Exhaling, she puts it to her ear. “Marshal.”

  
_“Glaive, report.”_

* * *

  
Cor puts his phone down, a mere thud on his mahogany desk. He doesn’t really see the painting across him. He can’t believe it. He sighs. Then again, this is war.

  
War isn’t always fought with a sword.

  
He should know this by now.

  
He doesn’t think he’ll be able to do anything for now. No, he can. And he’ll do it now. He pushes off his desk, pockets his phone, and makes his way out of his office.

  
His footfalls had been muffled by the office’s plush carpet, and the sharp click of them on the marble floors outside now suddenly seem like the crack of bullets. His lips thin. There are no firing of bullets here and there won’t be any. Not if he can help it.

  
He takes the lift up to where the conference room is. He watches each floor pass in the light above the doors, watches it move from one circle to the next.

  
Cor hopes he’ll be there. He has to report it to a higher-up.

  
The lift dings. He steps out, footfalls reverberating throughout the high corridor again. He nods at both of the guardsmen who greet him. He stops. “Is there a meeting going on?”

  
One immediately stands at attention. “Yes, sir.” He stands back at ease.

  
He nods. “Has it started long?”

  
The guard stands at attention again—“It’s been a while now, sir.”—then returns to being at ease again.

  
He purses his lips.

  
The other guard stands at attention. “Would you like us to pass a message to the Council, Marshal?”

  
“No,” Cor says. “No, it’s fine. I’ll wait for them myself.” He goes over to the only towering double door that’s shut and prepares to wait for some time.

  
It’s not even ten minutes when the wide doors swing open. Although he’d acted like he hadn’t noticed, he’d seen the uneasy glances the guards had been throwing his way the entire time. He supposes his being here to personally relay a message to the Council is the reason for it.

  
The Council starts filing out and Cor immediately goes over to them, spotting the one he’s been meaning to talk to. The King isn’t among them. Just as well. He’s already got enough mounting burdens, what with the imminent signing ceremony and all that. Cor nods back at the Councilmen who pass him.

  
“Clarus?” he says.

  
Clarus stops shuffling some papers and looks up.

  
“A word.” Cor falls into step beside him.

  
“If this is about the other time—”

  
“No. But it’s urgent.”

  
Clarus purses his lips, before nodding. “Alright. Fill me in now. I’ve still got another meeting to get to.”

  
Cor frowns. “I need to talk to you.” He glances at Clarus. “Privately.”

  
“To my office then.” Clarus exhales. “It better be really urgent.”

  
Cor thinks, it is.

* * *

“It is still as we’ve discussed, Cor. You will remain on external patrol.”

  
Clarus’ voice doesn’t quite resound throughout the expansive office, but all the same, it reaches Cor where he’s at the other side of the mahogany desk.

  
Cor puts a hand on the armchair in front of him. “But, Clarus, didn’t you hear what I just said?”

  
His face doesn’t change, but the slight frown remains. “I did. However, as I’ve said, Your position was ordained by His Majesty.”

  
Cor exhales, fingers digging into the chair’s cushion beneath the velvet now. “Clarus. As his Shield, don’t you want to protect him?” He’s not quite sure what he expected to hear, but it just wasn’t this.

  
Clarus’ eyes are hard. “You know very well, I do.”

  
Both of them stare at each other, stances rigid. They hadn’t bothered to sit down.

  
“Then, put me at his side, Clarus. Take the Kingsglaive away—”

  
“The Kingsglaive are the only ones equipped to protect His Majesty.”

  
“And the ones who pose the greatest threat. Even you say Regis had his reservations about their position. They’re going to be too close to him.”

  
“Cor.” Clarus sighs. “Why don’t we just honour him. Trust his judgement.”

  
“I trust him. But not the traitors. I want to honour him. By protecting him.”

  
Clarus sighs again, wearily this time. “Cor, we don’t even know if it’s true.”

  
He frowns. “Why would your son lie to us?”

  
“Cor.”

  
“Think about it. Don’t you trust Gladio?”

  
Clarus remains quiet for a while. “I do. But this isn’t a simple matter about trust,” he says. “You will remain with the civilians.”

  
Cor purses his lips.

  
Clarus picks his dossier back up from his desk and regards Cor. “Give me a full report on the assassination attempt on the Glaive, Marshal. I will look into it.” He begins to leave, footsteps soft on the plush carpet.

  
Cor dips his head. “Yes, sir.”

  
“And Cor?”

  
He looks up. “Yes?” Clarus had stopped by the door, his hand on the handle.

  
“You will not speak of this to anyone else. Not even Drautos.”

  
“Yes, sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

She stares at the back of the car seat in front of her. She’s noticed the looks Gladio’s been giving her and wants to continue ignoring them. She doesn’t know why he’s doing that. It makes her feel. . .awkward. There’s only the sound of the engine running. No one’s talking at all.

  
She wishes the older-looking prince and the. . .other people would just talk among themselves. Pretend that she’s not there. Somehow, she just knows that no one’s talking because of her.

  
“Crowe.”

  
She looks up sharply.

  
Gladio’s brows are furrowed. He looks older too. Different.

  
“Um. . .yeah?” she says.

  
He just looks at her, saying nothing.

  
Turning away, she pushes at his knee. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  
He lightly catches her hand. Sighs. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  
She tries to pull her hand away but he tightens his grip slightly.

  
“Crowe?” he says.

  
She licks her lips. “I. . .” She keeps her voice very low. She feels like everyone in the car’s listening to them.

  
“I’m not sure if you remember them, but I’ll just tell you again.” He points at the driver, then to the blond beside him. “That’s Ignis, Prompto, and you know both of us.”

  
“Right.” She pulls her hand back into her lap. She’s glad he just told her. She doesn’t remember ever seeing those two before. She thinks she might be bad with names, but she sure isn’t with faces. She’s sure she’s never seen them before.

  
Silence presses onto them from all sides and she thinks she might not be able to breathe anymore when Gladio speaks again.

  
“I called the Marshal, just now,” he says.

  
“Oh. Um. . .did you now?”

  
“Yeah. I did.”

  
“I see.”

  
“Crowe. I called the Marshal.”

  
“Okay.”

  
“You want to know why?”

  
“Seems like, you want to tell me.”

  
“I called him for you.”

  
“Oh.”

  
“I called him for you, Crowe.”

  
“Okay.”

  
“Do you remember? I called him for you. I told him ’bout you. Why you’re here. I had to tell him for you because you couldn’t remember it yourself. Crowe. Look at me. Do you know why you’re here?”

  
“No. No, I don’t. I don’t know why I’m here, why you keep asking me. I don’t know what’s the big deal. What’s the big deal, huh, Gladio? Why don’t you tell me? Why don’t you tell me why I’m here? Why am I here, Gladio? What am I doing here?”

  
He doesn’t say anything else for a while. Then, he reaches out to smoothen the middle of her brows. And she’s. . .surprised. That he’s not angry with her. He actually looks. . .sad.

  
She heaves a sigh and stares at her hands. Glancing at his direction, she asks very quietly, “What am I doing here, Gladio?”

  
Still, he doesn’t answer.

  
She can’t stand the silence after a while and starts scrubbing her soiled hands. She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to get the stains off. Why they’re so dirty. She doesn’t think too hard as to what the brown—almost black—stains are. Somehow, she just knows she doesn’t want to know.

  
“Here.” Gladio takes her hands, puts them on his lap, and starts wiping them with tissues. Wet tissues. A packet of them sits on his lap now.

  
He doesn’t speak again. Just wipes her hands. He unzips her gloves, pulls them off, and wipes them before focusing on her hands again. He wipes and wipes until the filth almost doesn’t seem to have been there in the first place. Until the evidence of a past that she can’t recall are almost fully erased and wiped clean. A blank slate.

  
His actions are careful. Gentle. And they seem to strike her hard with her untethered mind. She doesn’t know what happened, what made him decide to treat her this way. And she thinks she doesn’t want to know what it is. Whatever it is, it can’t be any good.

  
But in this state, she feels like she’s not floating, not sinking. Not anything. And maybe she’s falling. Everything’s too much. The light, the colours. She’s too small, too big, coming out of her skin in a reality that’s unreal, unfamiliar, constantly shifting beneath her feet. Maybe not even there in the first place.

  
“Why am I. . .why am I here, Gladio?” A tear falls. And another. She quickly wipes them away with her forearms. Her hands are still damp. At the back of her mind, she knows that there are other people around. She’s such a mess. She tries to keep her voice steady. “Why am I. . .here?”

  
Gladio doesn’t look up at her. Just keeps his eyes on her hands and tells her why she’s there as he continues wiping them.

* * *

  
“So, the princess.”

  
“Yeah.” Nyx joins Pelna halfway down the front stairs of the Citadel.

  
His shift’s just ended. The setting sun glints off the Citadel in fragmented glares. He frowns and shades his eyes with a hand.

  
He just wants to go home and sleep after this. They’ll probably get dinner with the others first. Or a drink, as they sometimes do after a hard battle. He remembers then they all just had a drink together before Crowe left.

  
Still, he just feels like sleeping and never waking up again. He doesn’t want to think about the treaty signing or whatever it entails. He almost trips on a step. Not for the first time he wonders why the Citadel needs so many stairs.

  
Pel’s quiet for a while. “I’ve been thinking. . .y’know, ‘bout Crowe.”

  
Nyx glances at him. “What ‘bout her?”

  
Pel’s lips thin. “What’s the princess doing here? She should be. . .what’s going on?”

  
“I don’t know either.”

  
“Something’s not quite right, Nyx.”

  
He doesn’t answer.

  
“I mean—where’s Crowe?” Pel says. “She’s supposed to be escorting the princess.”

  
“Yeah. I noticed.” He’d told him about it.

  
A pause. “I hope nothing’s happened.”

  
“ _Nothing’s_ going to happen. Nothing has.”

  
Pel just gives him a look before looking away. “Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

  
Nyx purses his lips. He starts to tell Pel that he shouldn’t speculate when his earpiece beeps suddenly. He taps it, turning away. “Ulric reporting.” He frowns. “Lib? What’s going—stop. Speak slowly. I don’t get you—” He freezes. “We’ll be right there.” He slaps Pel on the arm.

  
Then they’re running back up the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

“You were supposed to get Luna?”

  
They’ve all gathered on a grassy area, quite some distance from the road. The blue sky is smeared with purple and pink, red orb sinking beneath the horizon. Still nothing has been set up for the night.

  
She’d just woken up in a car she’d never seen before with a different-looking Gladio and an older-looking prince, and two strangers, with no idea why she was even there. When Gladio had caught one of her glances, he’d simply said, “You’re safe.” Hadn’t even seemed to find it weird that she was there, sitting between him and the prince. She’d decided not to ask him anything.

  
Crowe pauses at the prince’s tone now, but she doesn’t look away. “Yes, your Highness. I’m supposed to escort the princess to Altissia for the wedding.” That, she knows.

  
It seems like news to the prince though. “But you didn’t.”

  
She dips her head. “No, your Highness.” At least, not yet. She doesn’t give an excuse. Nor an apology. It is what it is. She’s here, with them, and there’s no princess in sight.

  
“Cool it, Noct,” Gladio says.

  
“What?” the prince says. “This is—this is a. . .she was supposed to get Luna.”

  
“ _Noct._ ” Gladio’s eyes are hard.

  
The prince glares at him. Gladio doesn’t back down. The blonde—she doesn’t know who he is—glances between them, arms outstretched and hovering.

  
The prince looks away. Runs a hand through his hair. He exhales harshly. “Luna. . .she could be in danger.” He doesn’t look at her.

  
“Send me,” she says, “Your Highness.” She was meant to go anyway.

  
Wait. What time is it? She’s supposed to deploy at 1600. She takes in the sky. The sun’s already set. She should’ve deployed by now. She doesn’t know why she’s here—wherever this is—and not there, but she thinks she could still make it before the treaty signing.

  
She notices the prince staring at her.

  
“Don’t look at her like that.” Gladio moves closer to her and she almost steps away. She’d wanted to stand the furthest from him, but he is the only one she really knows. “She didn’t shirk her duty.”

  
Crowe glances at him. She feels like they’re all talking about something she knows nothing about. She looks to the prince and bows. “Really. I can still do it, your Highness.”

  
Gladio turns his stare onto her while the prince doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

  
“Not in her state,” the bespectacled man finally says.

  
There it is again. They’re talking about that something. What about her state? Nothing’s wrong with her.

  
“Noct, getting worked up will not solve anything,” the man—she’s sure she’s also never seen him before—says. “We don’t know for sure if Lady Lunafreya’s in danger.”

  
The prince rounds on him. “And we’re supposed to wait until something happens?”

  
The blonde shrinks back. Still, he doesn’t say anything. He’s nearer to the man’s side now, face open and wringing his hands.

  
The man holds the prince’s gaze. “No. But we don’t have enough information to come to a conclusion just yet.”

  
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t really know what they’re talking about in the first place. She doesn’t even know why she’s here with them. She pauses. Thinks.

  
Wait.

  
She looks up. Sees unfamiliar faces, the prince. Gladio. They’re all standing in a circle. A meeting.

  
She doesn’t know what’s going on.

  
She looks around. Wide plains, open skies. They’re outside the Wall.

  
She doesn’t know where’s she.

  
“Noct,” a bespectacled man says, “we don’t even know if Crowe was really sent on His Majesty’s order. From her coordinates, she wasn’t dropped off anyway near Tenebrae. In fact, she was dropped off in the opposite direction.”

  
She frowns. That’s new. She doesn’t remember being. . .dropped off anywhere.

  
Gladio turns to her, face hard. “Think you could give us a run-through of the events before you got the mission?”

  
She pulls herself fully upright and nods. “We were out at the border fighting a losing battle overnight when the Niffs suddenly retreated. Luche told us later that night that they’d sent an envoy to the Citadel. The next day, the treaty acceptance was on the news. We were formally briefed about it by the captain and I was told to infiltrate Tenebrae. I’m to deploy the next day.”

  
Gladio nods, his brows furrowed. He looks up at the man. “Well, what’d you think?”

  
Wait. What time is it? She should be going to meet the princess.

  
“Crowe, did the other Glaive know about your mission?” It’s not that he treats her overtly familiarly, but the man doesn’t treat her like a total stranger either. She doesn’t remember being introduced to him before. She hasn’t even seen him before.

  
She answers him anyway. “The captain announced my deployment in the briefing room. But not the details. Mission details were classified.”

  
He hums. “It’s hard to tell if it is or isn’t a direct order from the king. If it isn’t, that’s a brazen move to pull.”

  
The prince steps closer to the man. “But it could be. A direct order from my dad.” He doesn’t look at her. Hadn’t looked at her the whole time she’d spoken just now.

  
“Should be,” Gladio says. “Crowe’s mission was sabotaged.”

  
She whips around to face him. Her mission? What mission? Her escort mission?

  
“Yes.” The man crosses his arms. “For one thing, we know that the king still holds Lady Lunafreya in high regard.” He turns back to her. “What was the sentiment among the Glaive when the treaty was announced?”

  
She doesn’t need to think about that. “More than half of them were unhappy about it. Mostly about the outlying districts being surrendered to the Niffs.”

  
Gladio grunts. “It is their homes we’re talking about.”

  
“And emotions are a strong motivator. For any cause.” The man looks straight at her then. “Crowe, where do you call. . .home?”

  
She frowns. She doesn’t really want to answer that. Shifting slightly on her feet, she catches the hard look Gladio’s giving him.

  
Gladio huffs. “Let’s just—”

  
The man puts up a hand. “Crowe?” His voice is smooth. Light.

  
Gladio rolls his eyes, lips pressed firmly together. But he doesn’t say anything again. Just places his hands on his hips, then crosses his arms. She can feel the tension in the air, feel the weight in the man’s question.

  
Gladio just gives her an imploring look when he catches her eye. And somehow, she knows. That everything—though she isn’t sure what—hinges on her answer.

  
She exhales and shrugs. “I don’t know,” she finally says. And she means it.

  
The man says slowly, “You don’t know?”

  
Gladio frowns and looks at him. “Look—”

  
“Just”—she looks away—“anywhere the guys are, I guess.”

  
“The guys?” the man says.

  
“Nyx, Libertus,” Gladio quickly says. “Pelna.”

  
She looks back at the older two to see them sharing a look. The younger two—at least, she thinks the prince and blonde look like the younger two—have been quiet the entire time. She decides she doesn’t care what they’re all thinking or silently sharing between themselves anymore. She just wants to get this discussion over with so she can sit down and stop her mind from swimming.

  
“So,” she says, “what about the princess?”

  
The man immediately turns to her. “She’s just part of a bigger picture, but she is part of His Majesty’s plan. It’s highly likely that she’d be targeted.”

  
This gets the prince talking again. “Luna’s just as much a pawn in this—this game the Niffs are playing.” He exhales harshly. “She doesn’t deserve this.” The topic of the Tenebraen princess always gets him talking. She’s picked that up in this short amount of time. She’s also picked up how he avoids directly addressing or looking at her.

  
The blonde glances at the prince, his forehead creased. He awkwardly puts a hand on the prince’s shoulder, only to get shrugged off.

  
“Or maybe it’s not about her,” Gladio says abruptly. “If the Glaive were unhappy. . .Crowe.” She’s not sure she wants to hear what he’s going to say. “During the signing, the Glaive would be the only ones guarding the king, right? My dad told me even the Crownsguard won’t be present.”

  
She can only stare at him. “You don’t mean. . .”

  
He just frowns. “That’s what I mean.”

  
“That’s. . .”

  
“Plausible. Right?”

  
And she knows. It is.

  
Gladio seems to gather that from looking at her. His frown deepens and he says quietly, “That’s why they decided to take the Black Mage out.” She doesn’t get what he means by that.

  
“Right, so can you tell us what’s plausible?” the prince snaps, having been staring at Gladio only.

  
She feels she’s outside of her body when she tells him what they both suspect.

  
The princes’ gaze is sharp now. “We got to go back.” He’d barely glanced at her. She’s starting to wonder if it’s something she’s done.

  
The blonde just continues glancing around, obviously still not fully understanding what’s going on. She doesn’t either. Her mind’s sort of. . .blank.

  
“Your Highness, why don’t you go and unwind first?” the man says.

  
The prince just crosses his arms. “I want to know what’s going on. We’re talking about my dad. And Luna.”

  
The man dips his head. “I promise. We’ll tell you what we’ve discussed.”

  
“Yeah. C’mon, Noct.” The blonde pulls on his arm lightly.

  
The prince looks at the man. “You promise?”

  
He nods again. “You have my word.”

  
Gladio only turns to her when the boys are gone. “You alright?”

  
She nods. “Yeah.”

  
He just looks at her.

  
“Yeah. I’m alright. Am I not supposed to be, Gladio?” She glances at the man who continues standing beside him. She wonders why he doesn’t just go away too.

  
Gladio sighs. “Don’t. . .don’t worry too much. About Noct.”

  
“The prince?”

  
“Yeah. The prince. He. . .he doesn’t mean harm.” Apparently it didn’t slip past Gladio how the prince’s been ignoring her.

  
“Was it something I did?”

  
“More like didn’t do.”

  
“What?”

  
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  
She decides to disregard the man and finally come clean. “Which is worse? Feeling bad because you remember what you’ve done wrong, or not feeling bad because you don’t remember what you’ve done wrong?”

  
Gladio purses his lips. “Which one are you?”

  
She doesn’t answer immediately. “The latter.”

  
Gladio frowns, crossing his arms as he regards her. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he finally says. “You were almost assassinated. By Glaive.”

  
The world around her turns to white and falls away.

  
She didn’t expect that at all.

* * *

  
“She was a good soldier,” Drautos had said in his office.

  
She was.

  
Nyx’s mind had reeled.

  
Lib had refused to accept it. Had said, “No one even knows if she’s really dead.”

  
Pel had just been quiet. Quieter than usual. No questions for the captain. Nothing.

  
At least he’d asked something.

  
Nyx wishes he hadn’t though. His mind wanders to all the different ways she could’ve died—

  
He stops. Keeps his mind blank. He keeps going. Reaching his door, he goes in, balancing the box in one hand, and locks it behind him. They didn’t go to dinner in the end. Not like he even feels like eating. Besides, Lib had left.

  
Left the Glaive altogether.

  
At least Pel’s still here.

  
He shakes his head once. Places the box down. Captain had said it contained items found at the site. Items she’d been carrying. Lib hadn’t even bothered to take the box. Nyx turns away from it.

  
He focuses on taking off his coat. He hangs it over the back of his chair and stares at it. He picks it back up. Slowly, carefully, he folds it then sets it on his table. He sits down and starts unlacing his boots. He does that slowly too.

  
He doesn’t wish she didn’t go on that escort mission. No. She was sent, and she went. That was her duty as a Glaive.

  
That is their duty as Glaive.

  
He pulls off his first boot slowly, then the next. He sets them to the side. He just looks at them, lined against the wall.

  
They’re Glaive. Each of them. They believe in their duties—apparently not Lib though—no. They do. That’s why she went.

  
All Glaive knew they’d most probably be KIA. Even himself.

  
Even Crowe.

  
This is no one’s fault. There’s no one to blame. Just themselves. They’d knowingly pledged themselves to the king. To Lucis. Nyx knows this. And he accepts it. He decides to put everything out of his mind once and for all. But not before he goes through Crowe’s personal effects. He opens the box and takes out each item, placing them lightly onto the table.

  
There isn’t much in it. Crowe’s Li’l Malbuddy phone strap with its string torn, the hairpin meant for the princess, and the watch she’d been wearing when she left. He thinks it’s new. Probably for the mission. She’s never worn one before. She’d always just grab his arm to read his watch or ask him the time instead.

  
He picks up the watch and examines it. Its strap is ripped, surface, a little scratched and soiled. He dusts it off. He doesn’t let himself wonder as to why her belongings are in such a state. He looks closely at the watch’s face. Hmm. Doesn’t look like an ordinary watch. Those numbers sure don’t look like the time. He sets it back down.

  
He hesitates, before curling his fingers around the Li’l Malbuddy slowly. It’s the only thing found at the site that he’d consider Crowe’s personal effect. He takes in the nozzles on the Li’l Malbuddy’s head, its dark face, and its tentacles. Crowe had always thought it was ugly—had said that when she’d first seen the Li’l Malbuddy on his corkboard and he’d immediately said, “My sister loved it,”—but she’d this on her phone for the last few years. . .

  
Years.

  
There are no more years. Not anymore. He clenches his first around it. He opens his hand after a while, and stares back at the Li’l Malbuddy with its wide eyes. He holds it up by its string, watching as it turns this way then that.

  
He stops it abruptly.

  
Slowly, he turns the Li’l Malbuddy to its back. His breath catches. Then he’s wiping and wiping, scrubbing at the surface with his hands. He’d to get it off. Had to get it clean. He wipes it until his thumb dampens. Wipes it until he finally, finally, gets the bloodstain off.

  
He stares at the now spotless Li’l Malbuddy. He realises he could’ve just run it under water and washed it with soap. Or wipe it with a wet cloth. Briefly, he thinks about throwing it away. But he knows he won’t. He glances around his room, wondering where to keep it. He turns back to his table.

  
His eyes fall onto the corkboard there. He traces a finger over each photo pinned to it. Photos that immortalised those that might otherwise fade from his memory. He could never forget all of them. But he’d worried that he might forget their faces. He stops.

  
Crowe isn’t in any of them.

  
She never liked taking photos.

  
Taking out an unused thumbtack, he sticks it into a corner at the top of his corkboard. Carefully, he ties the Li’l Malbuddy over it, next to his photos. Next to his own Li’l Malbuddy there. It was the kind one can get from an arcade machine with just a coin.

  
He remembers trying to get Crowe to speak to him again after he’d snapped at her about the Li’l Malbuddy. She’d gone back to being like how she was when he’d first met her, all stares and no words. His lips quirk at that. He’d always wondered what went through her mind then. Still did, sometimes. Even now.

  
Like what went through her mind during her last moments.

  
He thinks about how Selena would’ve been around Crowe’s age now. Goes through it in his head. Yeah. They’d be around the same age. If only he’d a photo of Crowe too.

  
He lets himself sit there for a while. Or maybe a long while. He doesn’t know. He does nothing. Just watches the Li’l Malbuddies, side by side, against each other. Eventually, he gets up.

  
He doesn’t think about anything that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! God bless.

“I’m hoping she’d be safe, Clarus. She does not have people like the boys to look out for her, such as Noctis does.”

  
He nods carefully. “Yes, she does not.”

  
“I did specifically request for the Black Mage to be sent to escort her, however. You’ve mentioned that she is one of the best and most loyal from what we’ve gathered so far.”

  
He nods again. “Of course, your Majesty.” It was a decision that Regis had come to after much discussion with him. It had made sense to send a Glaive that was the best in magic than in combat. It was supposed to be a standard infiltrate-and-extract mission. It was supposed to be quick.

  
Night had long fallen and both of them are now leaning back in their leather armchairs in Regis’ room, after a whole day of wooden, high-backed ones around the conference table. Clarus is glad that he’d managed to convince Regis to sit out this morning’s meeting. The subject of the treaty had obviously—at least to him—taken a toll on his friend.

  
It was after that meeting that Cor had told him about the conspiracy. He doesn’t want Regis to have more burdens. The Wall was already enough of one.

  
Regis continues, “It’s just as well it’s a young lady.” He pauses. “Crowe, if I’m not mistaken. I hope it’d make Luna feel more at ease.”

  
He thinks of how to switch the topic. “Yes, of course.”

  
Regis is quiet for a moment. “Do you think something could possibly go awry? I’m hoping not.”

  
He keeps his face just blank enough. “Yes, of course. I’m sure you do not.”

  
“Clarus.”

  
The vast room with its high ceiling, and gilt and intricate designs along the walls only seem to amplify his name.

  
He sits up straighter. He makes sure to keep eye contact and his tone light. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  
“Clarus, this is not a meeting. Are you not here as my friend?” Clarus knows he’s the only one in the Citadel who enters Regis’ room to talk. To chat openly, to be more precise.

  
Also, only in front of him does Regis sit down heavily, sigh, and remove his cape. “Right. You’re right, Regis.”

  
“Now, you’ve just been nodding and saying ‘yes’ the whole time, my friend.” Regis regards him for a while. “Would you care to share?”

  
Clarus says nothing for a moment. “Princess Lunafreya may or may not still be in Tenebrae.” He leans forward, placing a hand on Regis’ shoulder. “Please, do not be too alarmed.”

  
“How can I not be?” Regis’ lips thin. He sighs. “Do tell me what you know, Clarus.”

  
And he does.

* * *

  
A bespectacled man is cooking with a blonde at his side, and the prince had set up fold chairs and is now lounging on one, which leaves her with the only option of helping Gladio set up the tent. So she decides not to. At first.

  
But she doesn’t like watching everyone else do something while she just stands there idly. So she goes over to Gladio and asks if he has another set of tools.

  
Everyone’s older now. They look older. She wonders why she’s out here, camping with them outside the Wall, and who are the bespectacled man and blonde. No one seems to register her presence. Or rather, no one seems to find her presence weird—she’s sure they’ve all seen her at some point—so she pretends that everything’s fine. Pretends that camping with strangers and people she hasn’t met in years is fine.

  
She works in silence, recalling what Gladio had taught her and the guys about setting up a tent those years ago, and keeps the tent between them as long as she can. Which isn’t for long. He’s fast in setting up the tent and ends up crouching beside her, driving the last peg into the ground. She’s not sure whether she should leave or stay.

  
When she’s just about to announce that she’s done and beat a retreat, he says, “You alright?”

  
This is exactly what she’s been trying to avoid having with him. A private conversation.

  
She’d been walking just now only to stop suddenly, realising she didn’t know where she was or where she was heading. She’d tried searching her mind as to why she’d be walking through grassy land under an open sky. She hadn’t been able to come up with an answer. When she’d spun around, she’d bumped straight into something. Or rather, someone.

  
He’d caught her by the arms, brow quirked. She’d stared at him, only recognising him after a moment. Gladio had changed quite a bit. He’d called her name, and she’d closed her mouth, turned back front, and would’ve marched off if she’d known where to go.

  
He’d stepped up beside her, saying nothing for a long beat. Then he’d turned to her. Had pointed and told her that they were heading to that spot up ahead to set up camp. She’s been catching the glances he throws her way since then.

  
But she doesn’t remember any of it. Just knows he’s been giving her looks many times now.

  
She fiddles with her own peg to look busy, knowing it’s already secure. “Yeah. I’m alright.”

  
There’s a pause. “Really?”

  
She barely glances up. “Yeah. Why not?” She tries recalling what they did just now. Realises she can’t. She can’t seem to recall the events of the day. 

  
Gladio sighs and turns to her. “Really now? You’re going to do that?”

  
She stops fiddling with her peg and turns to him, but isn’t able to hold his penetrating gaze. “What?”

  
“You—you’re keeping your distance.”

  
Not that she hasn’t tried, but she just ends up being around him. Like now. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  
He just looks at her.

  
She looks away. “Um, well. . .I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

  
He huffs. “You’re awkward. Did something you shouldn’t have just now?”

  
She looks up again to see him regarding her intently. Did she? She just can’t recall what she did before this. Knowing she’d give herself away if he continues watching her like that, she turns back to her peg.

  
“Crowe.”

  
She decides she doesn’t want to be around him anymore. “I’m—tired, Gladio.”

  
She places the tools back into his hands and leaves. She’s relieved that he doesn’t stop her or follow her. She isn’t sure what she would’ve said or done if he’d kept it up. She doesn’t know why, but she’d felt too. . .raw.

  
Still does.

  
And she’s not sure if she’s ever going to stop feeling this way.

* * *

  
The fold chair creaks when she shifts in her seat a little. She continues scrubbing the grime around her fingernails and picking at the dark crud beneath them. It’s been a little hard to see clearly in the dark with only the flickering light of the campfire, but she doesn’t let up. She doesn’t know what’s there to do.

  
She runs her hand over the chair’s scratchy material. She doesn’t remember sitting down, but she doesn’t remember doing anything else either.

  
She doesn’t remember what she did before this.

  
Glancing down at herself, she registers the dark sweatpants and hoodie she’s wearing. Definitely not hers. But the hoodie. . .she lightly traces the emblem on its front. She looks around. He doesn’t seem to be around. Maybe she’d borrowed it just for this. . .outing. Can’t be. They haven’t met in years. And one doesn’t simply ask someone for their Crownsguard apparel. Even if it’s just a hoodie. She wouldn’t lend anyone her Glaive uniform. She shakes her head and pushes her thoughts aside.

  
Resting on her forearms, she continues picking at her fingers. There are still some stubborn stains about her nails. She’s not sure how they got there. She’s so focused on her task, she startles when a voice says, “Hey.”

  
She stares at the blonde right beside her.

  
“We just finished this—well, more like Iggy just finished this—and thought you might like some.” His arm stretches out and she sees he’s holding a plate of food.

  
She just looks back at him.

  
He gestures with the plate. “Well, I know the others aren’t back yet but, Iggy said it’s alright if you started first.”

  
She continues staring at him. She doesn’t know who he is—or who Iggy is—and she’s not going to touch that plate.

  
“Y’know, it’s really okay if you started first.” His eyes dart to hers. “Or maybe not.”

  
She stares harder at him and hopes he’d just go away. She’s hungry, but she’d never accept things from strangers again. Not after that woman and her stale bread from what feels like ages ago.

  
The blonde can’t seem to meet her eyes anymore and he fidgets, before ducking away suddenly with a rush of words she can’t make out. Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care. She just goes back to her nails.

  
She’s managed to somewhat clean a nail when someone says, “Excuse me.”

  
She supresses a sigh and turns.

  
A bespectacled man is there. The blonde boy is peering at her from behind him.

  
“My apologies for disturbing you, Crowe,” the man says, “but I thought you might like some dinner.”

  
She looks back at him. He knows her name.

  
“Gladio should be back any time soon with the prince, so it’ll be alright if you went ahead first.” He holds out the plate to her.

  
Gladio. The prince. So they’re here too. She’s not just out in the middle of nowhere with some strangers. She looks back at the man. “It’s fine.”

  
“I don’t think you’ve eaten in a while now. You should have something.”

  
“It’s, fine. . .it’s fine.” She’d almost asked his name. “But thanks.”

  
The man just purses his lips, nods, and leaves. The boy scurries after him, whispering rapidly to him.

  
She leans back in her seat. Not knowing what’s going on is. . .hard. She slips her hands into her pockets. Stops. Tentatively, she feels around a pocket and pulls out the small, warm, solid item in it. She opens her hand. Sees it sitting in her palm.

  
A bullet.

  
She quickly stuffs it back into her pocket. She doesn’t know what’s it doing in there and she doesn’t want to know why.

  
She knows she doesn’t want to know why.

  
“Crowe. You okay?”

  
She looks up. It’s. . .Gladio’s watching her. Everyone’s watching her. She looks back to Gladio. Drops her hands that are clutched against her chest. “Yeah.” She looks back down and continues picking at the dried blood beneath her nails.

  
She hears heavy footfalls coming closer and contemplates moving away. But she doesn’t. She’s too tired to stand up and walk away. Besides, she isn’t a child anymore. No more running away.

  
“Here.” Gladio puts a plate of food on her lap.

  
She stares at the pieces of meat and vegetables skewered onto sticks. “You guys have enough?”

  
“You don’t eat as much as us. Besides, I can always hunt. Just tell us if you need more.”

  
She nods. “Right. Thanks.”

  
There’s a moment of silence before she sees his boots move away, back to the other end of the row of chairs.

  
Saying grace, she eats the food. She doesn’t really taste it. She takes another bite, chews, swallows. Repeats. The whole time, she watches the flames before her flicker. She doesn’t let her mind wander.

  
She’s almost done with her food when she suddenly remembers how Lib would always make them skewers among other things when he could. “A traditional Galahdian recipe,” he’d always say. He’d always make sure hers weren’t charred just because she didn’t like to pick those black bits off.

  
As she finishes her last few bites, she wonders what the guys are up to now. If they’re still in the Crown City. She stops.

  
The princess.

  
She looks around. But she’s here, and everything looks fine. Maybe the treaty signing’s already over. Maybe this is what peace looks like. Being able to camp outside the Wall.

  
But why aren’t the guys here too? She thinks. She realises she doesn’t remember anything about escorting the princess or even deploying. Why can’t she? It must’ve went well if she’s here.

  
She thinks of the guys again. This time, she feels like there’s something that she’s not recalling. Something that’s just beyond her grasp. She tries to catch it, but the thought just keeps drifting further away. It shouldn’t be anything.

  
That’s what she tells herself.


	7. Chapter 7

“You could just escort her to the tent.”

  
Gladio looks up at Iggy who’s on a chair. Apparently, he’d caught his glances at Crowe. She’s been nodding off for some time now. He simply leans back on his hands, careful not to hit his plate that’s beside him on the ground.

  
“I doubt the chair’s a good place for her to rest, Gladio. She looks tired.” Iggy keeps his voice low, though the kids’ attentions are obviously absorbed elsewhere.

  
He grunts. “You think? She’d been fighting the Niffs just a few days ago.”

  
Iggy hums.

  
Both of them say nothing else for a moment. Only the fire’s crackling and the kids’ animated conversation—well, mostly Prom’s lively voice—resound throughout the night. The campfire casts an orange halo around itself.

  
“You’ve been sporting a frown ever since you’ve gotten her call,” Iggy says quietly.

  
“Not always.”

  
“But frequently enough.”

  
“Well, what with everything’s going on, wouldn’t you too?”

  
Iggy’s silent for a while. “Yes, but I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about—”

  
“Don’t.” Gladio stares at him.

  
Iggy just lifts a brow. He eventually hums. “Alright.”

  
Gladio finally decides to bring up what he’s been meaning to since they’re talking about her. “Y’know, she’s. . .an orphan.”

  
Iggy doesn’t say anything for a while. “I see.”

  
“But she doesn’t talk ’bout it. So just. . .just—don’t ask her ’bout her home or anything like that. Alright?”

  
“If she doesn’t talk about it, how do you know?”

  
“The guys. They told me ’bout it.” He’s quiet for a moment. “They don’t know where’s she really from. So just. . .don’t ask her ’bout home.”

  
“Well, you know full well why I had to, Gladio.”

  
He just heaves a big sigh. He knows that Iggy wouldn’t have known how she’d always been loyal to the Glaive’s cause. If she even still is.

  
They fall into silence again, hearing only the pop and sizzle of the fire. The smell of burnt wood permeates the air.

  
“I think you really should escort her to the tent,” Iggy finally says.

  
He looks over to her slumbering form. “Fine.” He gets up and goes over to her.

  
Ignis notices how Noct watches Gladio as he makes his way over to her. He’d noticed how the prince would cast a glance at her direction every now and then.

  
He watches as Gladio carefully takes the plate out of her hands, puts it on the ground, and hunkers down, lightly shaking her shoulder. She wakes, but blinks blearily as Gladio says something to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder when she looks around dazedly, says something again, and finally gets her up and into the tent.

  
Ignis only moves then, stacking Gladio’s plate onto his, and goes to pick Crowe’s up. It doesn’t slip pass him how Noct’s been watching everything also and now keeps glancing at the tent. Whatever it is, the prince is allowed to be privy to his own thoughts.

* * *

  
Iggy settles onto the empty chair beside Gladio, but doesn’t strike up a conversation with him.

  
Gladio’s eyes wander over to Noct again. He takes in the prince’s form by the campfire, basked in an orange glow. Noct’s head is hanging forward, his eyes shut.

  
“He’s just worried.”

  
Gladio looks up at Iggy.

  
“He’s always worried about Lady Lunafreya,” Iggy says. “He was just. . .lashing out.”

  
Gladio realises he’s pursing his lips. He smoothens his face out. “Didn’t say anything.”

  
“l know. But you think he shouldn’t be blaming Crowe,” Iggy says simply. A little too simply.

  
Gladio glances at him. “I didn’t say that.”

  
“You don’t need to.”

  
Gladio doesn’t say anything for a while. “Soldiers. They carry out their duties, but. . .they can only do so much. Sure, they’ve taken an oath to serve the king, to carry out his orders at all costs, but. . .they can only do so much. In the end, they’re human too, aren’t they?”

  
Iggy doesn’t respond.

  
Gladio huffs, running a hand through his hair. “They’re human too. Like you, me. . .”

  
Ignis sees Gladio’s eyes dart to Noctis. He knows he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been watching closely.

  
“A life—any life—is. . .” Gladio just shakes his head. “Forget it,” he mutters.

  
And Ignis knows. Gladio’s basically a soldier too.

  
“Gladio!”

  
Both of them turn to the voice. Prompto. The scant moonlight doesn’t illuminate his expression, but they can see him gesturing frantically by the tent. Gladio and Iggy share a look.

  
Gladio gets up. “I should”—he exhales deeply—“check it out.”

  
“I’ll keep an eye on Noct.” Iggy tilts his head at the slumped figure closest to the campfire.

  
Gladio nods quickly and moves away.

  
“Hurry!” Prom waves more frantically.

  
Gladio walks over to him. “What—”

  
Prom grabs his arm. He speaks in a rush. “I just went in to get my phone—didn’t plan to do anything else because I didn’t want to disturb her—but I couldn’t find it, so I started looking around everywhere. Quietly, of course. I was very quiet. And then—”

  
“Get to the point, Prompto.”

  
“She’s asleep. But she’s breathing too quickly.” His eyes dart to the tent. “I don’t know what to do.”

  
“Right.” Gladio sweeps into the tent.

  
His eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark.

  
Spotting her, he goes over and hunkers down. Her breathing’s rapid and shallow, brows, a little creased. Her eyes are shut.

  
He shakes her arm lightly. “Crowe.”

  
No response.

  
He shakes again. “Crowe.”

  
Still no response.

  
He shakes harder this time. “ _Crowe._ ”

  
She gasps, hand shooting out.

  
She’s got his throat.

  
He immediately catches her wrist.

  
But he doesn’t squeeze it, or twist it. Just holds onto it. He looks down to see her sitting up, chest heaving. Their gazes meet.

  
“It’s just me,” he says.

  
She snatches her hand back from his neck and quickly wipes an eye. She glances at the entrance.

  
He looks over too to see no one there. He doesn’t know when Prom left. He looks back to her. She’s slouching now.

  
She doesn’t look up. Just keeps staring at the ground.

  
He finally starts, “You—”

  
“What happened?”

  
“I think you had a nightmare.”

  
She’s quiet for a moment. “Did I. . .disturb anyone?”

  
“No.”

  
“Then, how did you. . .”

  
“Prompto.”

  
“Do I,” she says slowly, “want to know?”

  
“No big. Only your breathing changed.”

  
She nods.

  
She finally looks up. She reaches out, but stops. She pulls her hand back. “You. . .okay?”

  
He rubs his throat a little. “Man, you got a mean grip.”

  
“I—um, sorry.” Her eyes drop.

  
“Hey. I was kidding.” He touches her lightly. “No harm done. Won’t even bruise.” He quickly adds, “Honest.”

  
“That’s not much comfort,” she mutters.

  
He just exhales. “You should go back to sleep.” She looks like she needs it.

  
She sighs wearily. “I can’t,” she says. “I. . .can’t.”

  
He pauses. “Then, need company?”

  
She looks up at him, before quickly looking away. “Um. . .”

  
He sits down beside her.

  
He glances at her. Looks around the dark space. Exhaling, he leans back on his hands. “Want to talk ‘bout it?”

  
She shakes her head.

  
“Talking ‘bout things like that helps, y’know.”

  
She just shakes her head again.

  
He lets it go. “You feeling uncomfortable?”

  
“Um, no. Why?”

  
“Sorry you couldn’t wash up by the river nearby just now. Except your hair. Iggy was worried you might get sick.”

  
“Me. . .? Why?”

  
He simply waves a hand. “Just because. Hope the wiping down still helped somewhat. The cloth.”

  
“Cloth.” She touches her nape and face. “Um, yeah. Thanks.” Obviously, she doesn’t remember having gone to the river to clean herself and her clothes. She huffs.

  
She looks down at herself. Tugs at a leg of the sweatpants she’s wearing. “This. . .isn’t yours, right? They’re too small.”

  
“Yeah. My friend’s.”

  
She pauses. “Does your friend know?”

  
“He offered it. Said anything I had would be too big for you.”

  
“Oh. I thanked him, didn’t I?”

  
“Yeah. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

  
She looks at the sleeping bag she’s on, looks about the tent. “Um, Gladio? Why am I. . .camping with you, with your friend, without my own stuff?”

  
He shrugs. “It was unplanned.”

  
She’s touching her long strands, as if only realising then that her hair’s down. She frowns slightly.

  
He brushes a hand down her back before giving her a once-over. “You warm enough?”

  
She seems to loosen up a bit. She nods. “Your hoodie helps. Thanks.”

  
“Oh? You can tell?”

  
“S’not like this is my first time wearing it.” She gives him a look when she sees his grin. “Besides, it’s huge.”

  
“Huh, I guess. Well, anyway, your jacket didn’t look comfortable to sleep in.”

  
She just nods again. He’s still not sure how much or what exactly she remembers. But he knows it’s sketchy.

  
“You should just keep it,” he says lightly.

  
She looks at him.

  
“The hoodie.” He points. “You always needed it more anyway.”

  
“No,” she says slowly. “You always offered it to me.”

  
“Well, if you weren’t a Crownsguard then, you are now.” He sees her lips twitch. He relaxes.

  
“The prince’s just outside, Gladio.”

  
“You’re a Glaive. What’s so different, really.”

  
She just shakes her head. She traces the emblem on the front the hoodie. “These things, we shouldn’t simply. . .” She shrugs.

  
“Fine.” He knows what she means.

  
Silence envelops them.

  
He wonders if her mind’s wandering. If she rather it didn’t.

  
“Y’know,” he says, “this reminds me of the time we went camping.”

  
She’s quiet for a while.

  
“Yeah,” she says. “You dropped your torch so hard it stopped working.”

  
“I have it here.”

  
“Here?”

  
“Yeah. I brought it on this trip. It’s still working.”

  
“Really.”

  
“Yeah. Really. My dad hit it a few times and it just started working again.”

  
“Wow.” She huffs.

  
“If it wasn’t for you, we’d have ended up hiking in the dark.”

  
“We’d Nyx too. If it came to that.”

  
He nods. Pel too. Lib. “You never really told me. Did it drain you?”

  
“If I couldn’t even keep that small flame going, I wouldn’t even make it out on the field.”

  
“Right.” He nods. He looks over to her. “But don’t tell me that’s all you remember. Nothing good?”

  
She tilts her head. Her face seems more relaxed now. “Hmm, let’s see.” She makes a face.

  
“Oh, c’mon.” He nudges her.

  
Her lips quirk slightly. “Setting up the tent?”

  
“Well, we went camping.”

  
“Fine. Making a campfire. Using mess tins. Stargazing.”

  
He hums. “Let’s go camping again?”

  
“Depends,” she says slowly. She gives him a look.

  
He feels a tug on his lips. In the dark of the tent, it’s as though they’ve gone back in time. Years.

  
“Make me barbeque again sometime?” she says.

  
He huffs a laugh. “It only works over a campfire.”

  
“Exactly.”

  
He smiles.

  
It’s small and unsure, but he sees her smile. It’s her first since he’s met her again after all these years.

  
Suddenly, the flap of the tent’s swept aside.

  
Both of them turn to see Noct stooping as he comes in. He stops by the entrance. “Um. . .can I come in?”

  
Gladio just looks back to Crowe. He gives her shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll go check if Iggy needs help. You try and get some sleep.” He gets up.

  
Noct steps forward. “Iggy’s—fine.”

  
Gladio just heads out.

  
Noctis looks at Crowe. He touches the back of his head. “Hey.”

  
“Here to sleep?”

  
He bites his lip. “Yeah.”

  
“Don’t let me stop you, your Highness.”

  
He settles down. “It’s. . .Noctis. Remember?” He finds it hard to meet her eyes.

  
“I never forgot,” she says. “Just, it’s better this way.”

  
“I should’ve. . .made it a royal decree when we first met.”

  
Her lips quirk. “Maybe.”

  
He glances at her from under his fringe. He licks his lips. “Um. . .about just now. . .”

  
“What about?”

  
He looks up. Her posture’s at ease, her eyes aren’t hard. He doesn’t think she remembers _just now_. “Nevermind.”

  
She lifts a brow.

  
“It’s. . .nothing,” he says. “It’s nothing.”

  
She raises both brows now. “If you say so.”

  
Noctis sits there, across her, feeling like a kid again. She’d always seemed older, wiser. Not kind but kind. He quickly looks back down. He clears his throat. “Think you could. . .teach me some new spells? Stronger ones?”

  
“Like old times, huh?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“If there’s time.”

  
“I guess.”

  
“Well, you should sleep, Highness.” She gestures.

  
“Noctis.”

  
They share a look.

  
“Your Highness,” she says.

  
He sighs. “Okay. Goodnight, Crowe.”

  
She watches as he settles down. “Goodnight.” She’s relieved he doesn’t say anything to that.

  
Even she sounds hollow to herself.


	8. Chapter 8

The glint, the shot. The smoking muzzle.

  
It was so real.

  
She didn’t fight, she didn't run. She didn’t do anything.

  
And now she’s awake. Exhaling, she wipes away the tear that’s escaped her. She blinks rapidly, coming to her senses. Her breathing starts picking up again. It’s dark. So dark. She can’t make out anything.

  
There’s rustling when she shifts. She freezes. Where’s she—she’s trapped. She can’t move. She can’t move her arms. There’s a jingle. She stops. Moves. There it is again. It’s a. . .she pulls her arms up and free.

  
She doesn’t know why she’s here. Why’s she in a sleeping bag. She wonders where’s she.

  
Feeling around, she finds the zip and pulls it open. She throws the top flap off her, exhaling deeply. It rustles noisily. She freezes again, chest seizing. There’s movement. Beside her.

  
There’s someone there.

  
She makes herself look to her right. Makes herself lift her hand and light it up. The flame in her hand flickers. She extinguishes it promptly, leaning back. But she doesn’t turn away. She doesn’t know who’s that. . .blonde. He’s close. For a stranger.

  
She stares at his now still form. She can barely make him out in the dark. She tries to steady her breathing. In, out. In, out. She pushes back, back—

  
She bumps against something and almost gasps. She didn’t know there was something else so close to her. It starts to move. She realises she can hear it breathing. It exhales slowly.

  
It’s someone else.

  
She doesn’t look this time. Just curls in on herself and hopes that person doesn’t wake. She can only hear her breathing. It’s too loud. She’s too loud. She tries to be quiet and tries to stop the sudden rush of tears.

* * *

  
Gladio turns his head. She’s really close. Much closer than when he’d first lay down just now. He notices the sheer darkness of the tent now. It was probably hours ago. She’s curled up on her side, back facing him. They’re almost touching.

  
He’d suddenly woken up. Then, he’d heard someone shifting suddenly beside him. There’s no movement anymore, but he can guess.

  
“Crowe?”

  
Nothing happens at first.

  
Abruptly, she turns around. She leans in close to his face.

  
“Crowe?”

  
Her breathing is deep and fast. “Gladi—o?” Her voice breaks.

  
“Yeah?”

  
There’s some rustling, before light suddenly blinds him. He shies away, eyes shut.

  
It immediately goes off. “Sorry,” she breathes, “sorry.” She lightly touches his face. “Just had to. . .check.” He realises it was probably a flame she’d conjured.

  
He keeps his voice low too. “S’okay. Can’t sleep?”

  
She pauses. “No.” And he’s not quite sure if she means _no, she can’t sleep_ or _no, it’s not that she can’t sleep, it’s something else_.

  
Although he waits, she doesn’t say more. “Hey. You can have the light on for a bit. If it makes you feel better.”

  
Another pause.

  
The flame starts again. He sees it sitting in the palm of her hand now. Slowly, she brings it nearer to his face. This close, he can see the way it burns and licks the air, can feel the way it warms the air and his face. He wonders how it feels in her hand.

  
He watches as she leans in again. She touches his jawline, then the ends of his hair. “You’ve changed.” He realises now how she sounds muffled.

  
He catches her hand, bringing it down between them. Her eyes dart to his. He lets go. Wipes the tearstains on her face. She moves away and the flame goes out.

  
“What’s it?” he says. While he can somewhat make out her face, he can’t really see her eyes in the darkness of the tent. But he can guess why she’s like that. “Hey.”

  
She says nothing.

  
He sighs, before tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “You were fighting the Niffs out at the border. Sounds familiar?” He continues when she finally nods. “They were winning, but they suddenly retreated. Inexplicably.” She just watches him. “Then a treaty was announced. Between us. And them.” She only shifts to slide her hands under her head to pillow it, so he goes on. “You were sent on an escort mission after that.” He stops there.

  
She finally says, “But?”

  
And in that space of time, while he’d tried to help jog her memory, they’ve ended up in a bubble, floating high above the ground, neither looking down. But he knows things would change soon enough. Sooner than he’d want.

  
He swallows. “You were compromised.”

  
And it’s too quiet, though it’d already been quiet. She seems to have gone somewhere far, far away. She seems to be elsewhere and not here. He doesn’t think he’d be able to reach her if he tried.

  
She sits up sharply.

  
He props himself up on his elbows. “Crowe?”

  
After a pause, she immediately gets out of the sleeping bag. She jams on her boots, unzips the tent flap, and is gone.

  
He sits there, staring at the opened exit. He gets up. Trying to be as quiet as her, he briskly wears his boots. At least he didn’t have to get out of a sleeping bag.

  
He’d wanted them to remain in the bubble they were in. But he’d looked down. He’d looked down because she couldn’t. He’d popped their bubble and sent them both crashing back down, where they belong. He hadn’t wanted to do that, but he had to. He’d wanted nothing to change.

  
No one always gets what they want.

* * *

  
She’s not too far from the tent.

  
He goes over, making sure his footfalls are loud enough. Her back’s towards him. Although there’s a curtain of clouds over the moon, he can still make her out. He stops just behind her. He reaches out. Pulls his hand back. He shifts on his feet, before reaching out again.

  
It happens too fast.

  
He doesn’t even get to let go of her.

  
She just whips around, grabbing onto his arm.

  
“Ah!” He jerks his hand back. He can still feel the buzz coursing through his veins, still hear the crackle of electricity in the air. The afterimage of white light’s burned into the back of his eyelids.

  
She gasps. “Gladio! Gladio, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

  
He’s surprised he doesn’t smell burnt flesh. She pulls on the arm he’s cradling close to himself and he resists. “It’s fine. I was just—” He feels warmth flow through his arm, starting from where her hands are placed. It’s soothing yet almost too hot, and he’s not sure if he dislikes the feeling. “Surprised,” he finishes.

  
Carefully, she lets go of him after a moment. She looks up at him.

  
“What’s going on?” he says. “Why’d you. . .”

  
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were here.”

  
He frowns.

  
She looks down and pauses. She slowly opens her hand, apparently holding something small. “I—” She drops it. She tries to catch it, but fails. There’s a small thud near his feet.

  
He bends down to get it. Stops. He glances up at her before picking it up off the grass. He can’t help staring at it. Rolling the small, cylindrical object between his fingers, he gets up. It’s warm. Light. Its tip’s peeled back. It looks quite like a mushroom. A silver mushroom. He doesn’t hold it out to her.

  
He doesn’t hold the mushroomed bullet out to her.

  
Although he already has an inkling, he asks, “How’d you get this?” He makes sure to hold her gaze.

  
“From this. . .pocket.”

  
“No, Crowe. How’d you get this?”

  
“I. . .don’t know.”

  
“Do you really?”

  
She doesn’t look at him.

  
“Crowe. Do you really?”

  
She says nothing for a while. “I keep. . .seeing these flashes, of a gun. Firing. Is it. . .real?”

  
“Here.”

  
“No. Don’t give it to me. Is it. . .real?”

  
“You mean, is this yours?”

  
She doesn’t answer.

  
“Yeah, it’s yours,” he says. “You were shot.”

  
And he tells her everything.

  
Tears fall. She wipes her face quickly. More tears immediately run down her face. She shakes her head. Shakes it again. She’s angry. But he wouldn’t have done anything differently. He wouldn’t have kept the truth from her. She wipes at her face once more. She doesn’t look up.

  
She snatches the bullet from his hand, stuffs it back into her trouser pocket, and zips it up. She turns away from him sharply, a frown etched on her face. She’s really angry. And he just stands there, watching her back.

  
He doesn’t do anything.

  
She sucks in a shaky breath then. Presses a hand to her mouth abruptly, muffling a sudden sob.

  
“Crowe.”

  
She exhales loudly, putting a hand on her hip. She runs it through her hair.

  
“Crowe.”

  
Another sobs escapes her.

  
Pulling on her elbow gently, he turns her around. He hesitates, before putting an arm around her. She stiffens. But she doesn’t push him away.

  
He pauses, before putting another arm around her. He does it slowly, giving her time to stop him. She doesn’t. She only grips the sides of the hem of his shirt, and he’s not sure if she’s going to push him away or pull him close.

  
She does neither.

  
He just waits.

  
Her shoulders start to shake. She sucks in a ragged breath. And another. Then she’s sobbing, her chest heaving. She drops her head onto his chest.

  
Only then he hugs her tightly. Cradles her head close. He just holds her as she cries, cries, and cries.

  
It’s after a long while—maybe hours, maybe not—when he feels her chest stop heaving, somewhat. Her arms drop from his waist. He lightly strokes her hair, before pulling back to peer at her. She steps away and quickly wipes her face. “You should—go.” Her breathing’s still uneven. She doesn’t look at him.

  
“Want to go back in?”

  
She shakes her head. Waves a hand at him. “You go first.”

  
He ducks down to catch her eye. “You’ll come in later, won’t you?”

  
She leans away and nods. “Yeah. Just, go.”

  
He looks at her for a while. He doesn’t really want to leave. She’s still not meeting his eyes. He exhales. “Right. Don’t stay out too long.”

  
She waits until he’s inside the tent, before moving further away. Sitting down, she hugs her knees. She can’t find it in herself to cry again. She’s just. . .empty.

  
The sky isn’t as dark anymore when she suddenly decides to pull out her phone. She turns it on.

* * *

  
Pelna blinks slowly. The ceiling’s dark. Everything’s dark. What. . .

  
_Ring ring. Ring ring._

  
He glances at the window. The sky’s still dark. He wants to sink back down into his pillow, wants to float back up into that space where nothing could reach him. He exhales.

  
_Ring ring. Ring ring._

  
He continues ignoring his phone. He’d just been dreaming about. . .Crowe. They were eating, he thinks. With the others. But not at their usual place. He doesn’t know where they were. It was a weird place.

  
_Ring ring. Ring ring._

  
He sighs. Who’d be calling at this time? He picks up the alarm clock beside him and peers at its hands. Three. . .12. Or 13. Whatever. Calls like this never bode well. He’s already heard enough bad news to last a lifetime.

  
_Ring ring. Ring ring._

  
He frowns and feels around his nightstand. Picking up his phone, he sits up and runs a tired hand over his face. He pauses before bringing it up.

  
_Ring ring. Ring ring._

  
He squints at the bright screen. An unknown number. He stops. This can’t be good. But it could also just be a wrong number. He thinks of just muting the call. He hesitates.

  
Something tells him he shouldn’t.

  
He tries to tamp down the roiling in him. His finger hovers over the hang up button.

  
_Ring ring. Ring—_

  
He picks up the call. Brings the phone to his ear. He says nothing at first. He licks his lips. “Hello?”

  
_“Not a word, Pelna.”_

* * *

  
“I don’t know who else to tell, who to trust. I don’t even know if this—if calling you is a mistake.”

  
“Crowe?”

  
Her heart seizes. She quickly hangs up the call and mutes her phone. She turns a little to look over her shoulder.

  
Ignis, she thinks.

  
Looking awake and put together.

  
Gladio did say he’s the only one with glasses. He must be Ignis.

  
She doesn’t think he’s seen her phone at her ear. She doesn’t know why, but she hopes he didn’t catch every word she said.

  
“Are you quite alright?” he says.

  
She tries to breathe. Tries to speak. “I. . .yes.”

  
“It’s quite dangerous being out here alone.”

  
She swallows hard. “Yeah.”

  
“Just don’t go too far away from the tent.”

  
She nods.

  
He says nothing for a while. “Do come back in when you feel like it.”

  
She nods again. “Sure. Sure, thanks.”

  
He nods and goes back into the tent. She glances up at the sky. It’s still quite dark, but she’s not sure of the time. She didn’t think anyone would be awake.

  
A few moments pass before she slowly exhales.

  
She turns back to her phone. She glimpses the time. 3:17 a.m. Immediately cancelling the second incoming call, she quickly pulls open the phone’s back, then pulls out its battery and SIM card.

  
She stares at the disassembled parts. She should’ve done this sooner. If what everything Gladio had said about her. . . situation, is true. She probably shouldn’t have even called Pel. But it’s too late now. She hopes he didn’t ping her phone to get her location. He’s done that before.

  
But if she could even keep one of them alive. . .she exhales. She hopes she hasn’t done a big mistake. She hopes, he’s actually on her side.


	9. Chapter 9

“We’ll depart a little after noon.”

  
Gladio grunts.

  
“If Crowe still isn’t awake by then, I’d suggest you rouse her,” Iggy says. “We’ve already delayed our departure long enough.”

  
He grunts again, not looking up from his phone. He goes through the few, short messages from Cor yesterday another time. _Don’t come back_ and _Carry on_ and _I’ll take care of things here_. Cor hasn’t texted him since. He finally clicks his screen off. Leans back in his fold chair, folding his arms. “You think we should really just go ahead?”

  
Iggy hums. “I’m sure the Marshal knows what’s best.”

  
Gladio growls. “I hate being kept in the dark like this. There’s obviously something going on.”

  
“Crowe. If only she could remember everything clearly.”

  
Gladio looks up at him. He understands now why Iggy had readily agreed to pick her up. He hadn’t really thought about it.

  
He realises, he isn’t surprised.

  
Iggy glances at him. “I’m not blaming her. Merely saying.”

  
“I know.”

  
Iggy glances at him again, before going back to preparing sandwiches for their ride later. He slowly says, “If her condition persists. . .”

  
Gladio sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’ll be considered pathological?” He couldn’t make himself wake her just now, even for breakfast. She’d looked so tired. And she’d finally seemed to be sleeping soundly.

  
“Well, yes. However. . .I’ve been thinking, and—”

  
“Out with it.”

  
“We can’t have her along on our journey.”

  
Gladio pauses. “What?”

  
Iggy places his knife down on the chopping board and looks squarely at him. “We’d have to drop her off somewhere.”

  
“Drop her off. You mean leave her behind?”

  
“No. Drop her off. We can’t keep taking care of her.”

  
“Didn’t ask you to.”

  
“Yes. But our primary charge is His Highness.”

  
“You think I don’t know that?”

  
Ignis exhales and pushes his spectacles up. He looks at him for a beat, then two. “If we were in danger, Gladio, would you be absolutely certain your priority would be the prince?”

  
Gladio raises his chin. “You questioning my loyalty?”

  
“Your rationality.”

  
“I know my duty, so back off.”

  
“Gladio, I’m merely saying this because I’m concerned for you—”

  
“Yeah. By questioning my honour.”

  
“By making sure you don’t make a mistake you’ll regret.”

  
Gladio pockets his phone and stands up. “We picked her up because she didn’t know who else to call.”

  
“She’d be too much of a hindrance in our getting His Highness to Altissia, Gladio. You and I both know it.”

  
He doesn’t say anything.

  
“Perhaps we could drop her off at Cid’s. Ask of him a favour, to look after her.”

  
He huffs. “She doesn’t really remember what happened, okay? She can’t remember things. She’s going to be scared. Cid’s not—a familiar face.” Ignis didn’t see her last night. Hadn’t known her before all of this. “Imagine that was you.”

  
Ignis says nothing.

  
“Anyway,” Gladio says, “she knows my duty. She won’t get in the way.”

  
Ignis’ lips thin. “So maybe she won’t. But like I said, she’s not the one I’m concerned about.”

  
Gladio tuts.

  
Their gazes clash. Neither looks away.

  
“Noct’s so mean! He tells me to be quiet, then flat out ignores me.” Prom’s voice cuts through.

  
Both of them turn away, Ignis going back to the food, while Gladio regards their friend.

  
Prom trudges closer and plops down onto a chair. “I still can’t believe he finds those things that he barely even sees more fascinating than me when I’m actually there.”

  
“For starters, they’re quiet,” Ignis says, “and they don’t whine for attention.”

  
Prom’s head jerks up. “Hey!”

  
Ignis’ lips quirk.

  
Prom turns to Gladio. “Tell him to take that back. Tell him.”

  
Gladio lets out a huff, feeling the tug at his lips. He just crosses his arms.

  
Prom leaps to his feet. “That was mean and you know it, Iggy.”

  
Iggy just shrugs, packing the sandwiches into containers.

  
“Why is no one ever on my side?” Prom throws his arms out. “Why? All you guys ever do is pick on me. Seriously! I don’t even know why. What have I ever done so wrong—”

  
Chuckles and laughs die instantly. They all stare at the tent’s entrance. Crowe’s standing there, mussed hair still down but now in her own clothes.

  
Her eyes are wide and blank.

  
Gladio steps forward. “Crow—”

  
“I’m glad you found your clothes, Crowe,” Ignis says slowly, calmly. “I was worried I might’ve placed them a little too far.” He doesn’t move from his place at the cooking station.

  
Crowe stares at him.

  
Gladio shoots him a look.

  
Ignis doesn’t stop, doesn’t look at him. He keeps his eyes on her. “Now, are you feeling famished? I’ve made sandwiches, if you’d like some.”

  
She blinks. Looks away. Her eyes fall on Gladio. She opens her mouth but says nothing.

  
Gladio walks over. He puts a hand on her. “Hey. Crowe. What’s up?”

  
She looks up at him. Blinks. “What am I. . .doing here?”

  
He doesn’t pause this time. He tells her briefly of the treaty, of her mission, and of it being compromised.

  
She stares at him.

  
He just holds her gaze.

  
Then, he realises she’s not staring at him. Her mind’s elsewhere. In another time and place. Only her body remains. Caught in the reality that’s here and now.

  
No one says anything. No one does anything.

  
Suddenly, she grabs her side with an exhale.

  
They all start moving and talking again when she falls back. As though she’d just been hit by impact. Gladio catches her by the arm and she staggers.

  
Prom starts to say _maybe she shouldn’t be standing_ , _maybe she should sit_ , _she could have my chair_ , and _she doesn’t look so good_. Iggy strides over and asks them to _quiet down_ and _stop moving about so hurriedly_. Gladio tells them to _just give her some space_.

  
She snaps back to herself at that moment. She grabs Gladio’s arm, eyes piercing into his. “Tell me again.”

  
He doesn’t look away. “Tell you what?”

  
Iggy starts, “Now, I’m sure this can wait—”

  
“ _Tell me._ ”

  
He does. “A Glaive shot you. In fact, he’s one of your close friends. He’s—”

  
“You’re lying.”

  
He pauses. “What?”

  
“Gladio,” Iggy says.

  
“You’re lying.” Her voice trembles. Her body’s trembling.

  
“I’m not. That’s the truth. Truth is, the Glaive betrayed you—”

  
“No.”

  
“Yes.”

  
“No.”

  
“ _Yes._ ”

  
“No!"

  
“Crowe.”

  
“No. Why should I believe you? I’ve known them longer than you.”

  
He grabs her shoulders. “Pull yourself together, Crowe.”

  
“ _Gladio,_ ” Ignis says.

  
Gladio ignores him, eyes boring into her.

  
She keeps shaking her head. “No. No. No.” She pushes his hands off her. “Get away from me.”

  
“Crowe.”

  
“Go away!” She steps back, eyes darting around.

  
“Crowe, don’t do this.” Gladio only reaches out, knowing that moving forward would spook her further.

  
“You’re lying. You’re lying.” She turns away.

  
And she runs.

* * *

Crowe!”

  
She doesn’t stop. She keeps running. All she sees is the green grass before her and she tries to get as far as she can. It’s just green, green, and more green.

  
When she stops, it’s still green. Only now there is other green. Trees. Hands braced on her knees, she tries to catch her breath. She takes in the looming trees around her, then the cloudless sky. It’s painfully blue.

  
She pushes herself upright and starts walking this time. The grass crunches beneath her and its smell fills the air. She pushes hair out of her eyes, swipes her hand across her mouth. He didn’t follow her. She exhales deeply.

  
She doesn’t know where she is, but she keeps walking. She jerks back when a butterfly flutters past. She notices other butterflies in her vicinity then. Birds chirp and twitter overhead in the trees, and a breeze caresses her bare skin and hair.

  
Looking up into the shade of leaves, she closes her eyes and wonders if this is what peace feels like. If it ever comes. She just lets the sound wash over her. She opens her eyes suddenly and looks around. She thinks she heard. . .she starts walking again.

  
There. She slows down when she sees it. A lake. She stops at the edge of it. A bird’s washing in it nearby and she watches it for a while. It looks around itself abruptly, before fluttering away.

  
Gathering her hair up, she ties it and hunkers down, splashing water over her face. It’s cold and numbing, and she’s glad for it. She stays there for a moment, feeling rivulets trickle down her face. She sighs.

  
She finally looks up and stops. Gets up. She dips her head. “Highness.”

  
The prince just nods.

  
She notices the rod in his hands now. “Ah, I didn’t know. . .” She gestures. “You didn’t say anything.”

  
“It’s alright,” he says quietly.

  
“Sorry. Did I, scare them all off?” She walks the few steps over to him.

  
“Nah. None were really biting.”

  
She sits down next to him. “Oh.”

  
He pulls his fishing line out of the water and returns the rod into his Armiger.

  
They say nothing for a while.

  
She gestures at the lake before them. Shrugs. “You like doing this?”

  
“Yeah.” He nods. “Gladio comes with me most of the time.”

  
“Oh. He taught you?”

  
He shakes his head. “Dad did.” He adds, “He used to come with me when I first started.”

  
She just nods.

  
He’s quiet for a while. “War sucks.”

  
“Yeah.” She nods again. “Yeah.”

  
They watch as a bird dives into the middle of the placid lake, catches a fish between its talons, and returns to its perch on a high branch.

  
“So, how’d you end up here?” he says.

  
“Just, needed some space.”

  
He nods. “We might need to head back soon. Specs wants to leave round noon. He doesn’t like driving into the night, if he can help it.”

  
“Oh. Where we heading?”

  
“Altissia. You’re coming, right?”

  
“I guess.”

  
“Unless you want to follow on your bike. Don’t think it’s that good for a long journey though.”

  
She looks at him for a beat. “My bike?”

  
“Um, yeah.” He touches the back of his head. “We. . .took it with us. Didn’t want to leave any trace behind.”

  
But she’s not really listening to him anymore. All she can think of is seeing for herself that the guys are alright. She thinks she knows what to do now. “Can I. . .do you know where’s it?”

  
He nods. “In my Armiger.” He pauses. “You want it?”

  
She nods.

  
“Um. . .” He gets up and brings her bike out. “What for?”

  
“Just, to ride.” She’s already standing and immediately picks up her helmet from the seat, before getting onto the bike. His hesitation tells her to think twice, but she doesn’t want to. Not now. “Thanks.” She wears her helmet. “Do you, perhaps, know where we are?”

  
“Um. . .” He shakes his head. “Didn’t really ask Iggy.”

  
“That’s fine. Your Highness.” She thinks he actually knows. He just doesn’t want to say. But she doesn’t blame him. She turns the key in the ignition anyway and the bike roars to life. She revs the engine a few times. It’s still working.

  
“Um, Crowe?” the prince has to raise his voice.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“I think we’re near Hammerhead. Leide.” He points. “Insomnia’s southeast.”

  
She nods at that. Tries to smile. She needed that. “Thank you. Noctis.” She doesn’t wait to see his face. Just pulls down her visor.

  
“Take care!”

  
She’s already off.


End file.
